


Mother's Love

by captainpeach



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Angst, Arianna looked at Varian and thought 'i guess he's my son now', Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Varian Needs a Hug (Disney), also i did sneak a newsies reference in there, and he gets it, because dear lord does that scene hurt everytime, because how could I not?, this first chapter was slightly inspired by Beth's death from little women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainpeach/pseuds/captainpeach
Summary: No more bedtime stories. No more lullabies, or quiet mornings preparing breakfast with her. He could no longer climb into her bed and expect her gentle embrace like he had the previous night. It was just him and his father.
Relationships: Queen Arianna of Corona & Varian (Disney), Quirin & Varian (Disney), Quirin/Varian's Mother (Disney), Varian & Varian's Mother (Disney)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 77





	1. The Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> ooh boy I certainly cried during this one :') the next chapter will be a little happier though dw

Varian knew his mother wasn’t going to get better. He was perfectly aware that his father knew this just as well. Every time he stepped into his mother’s room, she was asleep. Only ever awake for short periods of time, to drink and eat, and occasionally wash up and use the bathroom, with much help from his father. But apart from that, his mother was almost always in her bed.

And every night, when his dad laid on the couch to give her some space, Varian snuck into her room. His father didn’t want him in there during the night, unattended. But he couldn’t bear to be away from her for so long. 

it was around one AM, and Varian laid on his bed. His gaze kept fixed on the ceiling. Trees swished and rustled outside, every so often knocking against the window, waking Varian from his restless sleep. He turned over and looked around. The small room was illuminated by nothing but the moon outside, so bright and big and yellow that it turned night right into day.

Slowly, he pulled his blanket from over his legs and turned to slide off of his bed. His dad had made the bed himself once Varian could walk all on his own, but had failed to account his size. So every night he climbed into his bed or had his father lift him, and every day (or night when he couldn’t sleep) he slid out.

His feet connected with the hardwood floor, and he made his way to the door and pushed it open with caution. In the moonlight, the hall of his home looked like something from a dream. A few small pictures graced the walls. In one, there was him, only one year old, tucked safely in his mother’s arms. And just next to it, was him once again. Varian, recently, six years old. Beaming at the viewer, his father on one side, his mother on his other side. Both of them smiling, their hands placed gently on his shoulder. And just out of view, he and his mother’s free hand, intertwined.

They had gotten the picture done just after his mother had started getting sick. His mother had suggested it. Sometimes, Varian wondered if his mother knew she wasn’t going to pull through. Even from the beginning.

The hallway was silent, save for his feet padding against the wooden floors as he made his way down the hall. And not too soon, he was standing in front of the door to his mother and father’s room. He knew perfectly well what he would find behind that door. It scared him.

But he steeled himself, and with some struggle, pushed open the heavy door. And sure enough, there was his mother. Her hair laid around her head. And the moon, as if it knew what was coming, illuminated her hair like a halo. The blankets were pulled up to her armpits and untucked so she could breathe properly.

Varian stood in the doorway for a long moment, simply staring. If he focused, he could picture the room, only a few months ago. Filled with so much love and care. Him, sitting in his mother’s lap as she read. Crawling into his parent’s bed in the morning to rouse them, until they pulled him into the covers, and they all slept in.

“Varian,” came a soft voice, bringing him back to his senses. For a moment, he was terrified that it was his dad. But the voice was much too feminine. His eyes tracked up to his mother’s face, to see her eyes open, and a tired smile being directed at him. “Come here” she whispered, and he obliged.

She held a hand out, and he took it in his. She ran her along his knuckles, the same way that she had six years ago when his hand was just barely big enough to wrap around her finger.

She looked so different from what he could remember. Her eyes were sunken and tired, and her smile no longer held the enthusiasm it used to. Her eyes were only recognizable by the spark, still remaining even as she laid in her bed. Sick.

Dying. She knew she was dying, didn’t she? She knew. His father knew.

He knew. And it was tearing him apart. His lip trembled, and the image of his mother in front of him blurred with tears. Her hand squeezed gently around his. He blinked and wiped the tears forming in his eyes.

Her hand slipped from his. For a moment, he was worried she may have passed out. But then, she held up the blanket. An offer. “Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight instead?” he knew his father would be upset when he found them in the morning. He also knew there was no way he could say no.

He climbed into the bed and settled down next to her. She pulled the blanket up and over his shoulder. Giving him a warm smile, she wrapped an arm around him to pull him closer. He felt her kiss the top of his head and sighed, a content and quiet noise.

He had missed this. Just laying in bed with her. Over the months she had been sick, his father had kept them from sleeping in the same bed, worried that he may catch whatever she had contracted. But he couldn’t resist the offer, not when he had missed her gentle, loving hugs more than anything. And the way she ran a hand through his hair as she sang him to sleep.

He closed his eyes, allowing the tension to leave his shoulder. But still, the tears in his eyes kept coming. His mother let a sigh slip through and wiped the tears streaming down his face with a thumb.

Then she was singing. Her voice was the only sound coming from the room, aside from the rustling of the sheets and the soft breeze rushing past outside the window.

Eventually, his mother's voice faded, along with every other noise, and he was asleep.

But just as soon as he had fallen asleep, morning came to wake them. He expected to wake up to his mother laying right by him. Or sitting up, talking with her dad about why she had let him into bed with her. But when he opened his eyes, he saw an empty bed.

His stomach dropped. He sat up so quickly that he felt dizzy for a moment. He was up, sliding out of bed and rushing quickly downstairs. His ears rang as he raced towards the kitchen, hoping to see his mother there. Hoping she was okay. That maybe she had felt well enough to sit with them for breakfast. What a miracle it would be.

Varian skidded to a stop, hearing the quiet chatter of two people. Excitement bloomed in his chest, and he stepped through the thresh hold of the kitchen.

“Mommy?”

The kitchen was quiet. Grey, in the early morning light. His father sat at the table, across from a woman in black. They both looked at him, and the woman winced noticeably. His heart sunk. She should have been there. His mother should have been sitting at that table, talking to his father as if there wasn’t a single thing wrong. As if she had miraculously gotten better overnight.

But it was just his father and the woman. He looked between them, his eyes settling on his dad’s face. His father’s eyes stood out to him, they were rimmed red on the bottom, and glossy. His face was flushed, and it seemed he had spent a long time with his head in his hands, judging by how his hair was pushed back.

“Dad? Where’s mommy?”

His voice cut through the tension like a knife. The woman stood “I’ll leave you two be.” she said. And with that, she was gone. Varian’s eyes trailed after the woman, watching as the door clicked shut behind her.

He looked back at his father, who’s face was now streaking with tears. With an awful twist in his stomach, he realized the most terrible realization anyone could have. And he knew she wasn’t coming back.

No more bedtime stories. No more lullabies, or quiet mornings preparing breakfast with her. He could no longer climb into her bed and expect her gentle embrace like he had the previous night. It was just him and his father.

He stood like that for what felt like forever. Until his father strode across the kitchen and scooped his son into his arms. He hugged him. His hug was not like his mother’s. It was not warm, and careful. But it was strong and protective. Safe. Comforting. But even being in his arms was not enough to stay the sob forming in Varian’s throat.

His father sunk to the floor, as if he no longer trusted his legs to carry him. He kept his arms around his son the whole time.

And they stayed that way the entire morning. The grief heavy in the air. And it would stay that way, long after the sun had set and long after his mother's thing had been collected, and tucked away in the corner of the room.


	2. The Guest Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was so different from what she had seen in Old Corona. Then, he had stood tall, confident that he knew what he was doing. That he was right. And she had been scared. But now, he was shrinking on himself. Hugging himself with his arms. And she wondered how he had ever been any sort of villain. Any sort of threat.

Arianna loved the castle during sunset. The way the dwindling sunlight slipped through the windows, casting the hallways and rooms in a soft orange. Her heels clicked against the floor. Every few days, she had been checking in on the alchemist. He was still working on plans to bring warm running water to Corona and had been working rather tirelessly. He’d been staying in a guest room in the castle while he worked on it, so he wouldn’t have to make the trek from Old Corona every time he needed to run a test.

As she approached his door, she could hear shuffling around. But there was another noise, one that put her off. It almost sounded like singing. Soft, gentle singing. A lullaby, one she recognized. Her old friend, Aster, had sung it often. Under her breath, while they walked together in the gardens, or when she would visit with her little boy. The same little boy who was sitting in that room.

Arianna was a little apprehensive to open the door, not wanting to disturb the boys’ work. Nonetheless, she raised a hand and knocked. There was the sound of more shuffling and a voice.

“Uh- just a moment!”

And of course, a moment later, the door opened. And there was the Alchemist. But something stood out to Arianna, as her eyes landed on his face. His eyes were glossy and slightly red. Like he had been crying. She frowned and shook her head slightly to try and shake away any pondering.

“May I come in?” she asked. Varian opened the door with a nod and she stepped in wordlessly. It occurred to her that she had not visited him in his room before. He was usually curled up in the library, or somewhere with books he could research. But his room, she had never been in.

She knew the alchemist wasn’t exactly organized, but she had had a very different picture in her head. She had visualized a few papers scattered around, maybe some vials lying on the desk, but overall kept in place. In actuality, it was much messier.

Varian seemed to notice the expression on her face and rubbed the back of his neck. A self-conscious movement she had seen plenty of times. He cleared his throat “sorry, I uh… I wasn’t expecting you to come up here. And I’ve had a lot on my plate, so there hasn’t been much time to clean up.”

Arianna gave him a small smile “It’s alright” she turned her gaze to the plans. They were pinned to the wall or scattered around the desk, notes scribbled over the paper, and small sketches of how the machine would be built. It all looked very complicated, she had a hard time reading the boy’s handwriting. She was certain he had picked up that messy style from his mother. It had never been easy reading the letters Aster would send from Old Corona, but she had managed just fine.

Her eyes tracked over the desk until they settled on something. Something that was distinctly not plans for a machine. It was a thin wire, bent to look like a little bird. About the size of a coin. She picked it up and looked at it

“How did you make this?”

Varian turned from the paper he was picking up from the floor and looked at her. His nervous smile faded slightly when he saw the small, metal bird sitting in her palm. He set the paper down on his desk and took the bird gently from her hands. He handled it so gently, as if it were a living, breathing thing. His hands looked surprisingly delicate with the oversized gloves on.

The look in his eyes struck her. The way his eyebrows turned down and his eyes softened. His smile returned, but there was a sadness behind it.

“Uh- my mother taught me how to make them… when I was little. Of course, mine weren’t very good at first. My mother made this one.”

Arianna let her gaze fall back to the boy’s hands, where he was gently running a thumb over the bird. She remembered that well. When she and Aster would sit out in the garden, her friend would bend a small piece of wire that she carried around. She would bend it into many different shapes. And Arianna wondered how she could make so many things out of just a piece of wire. Her heart ached in a way she hadn’t felt for some time.

He looked like her, she thought idly. The boy, standing in front of her, with his hair falling in his face. The freckles dusting over his cheek. And his blue eyes, bigger than she thought was possible. The only thing that he didn’t share with his mother was his jet black hair. That, she knew, the boy had inherited from his father.

“I see… I remember when she would make those”

Varian’s head raised, his expression was now unreadable. She couldn’t tell for the life of her whether he was sad, confused, or upset. “You… knew my mother?” she recalled when the boy had just been a baby, and Aster would bring him when they would visit from Old Corona. Though, she should have figured he wouldn’t remember any of that. But she remembered the way he’d look up at her from his mother’s lap, and reach up at the queen. She still had a hard time grasping that this was the same child standing in front of her.

She nodded “we were very close. She used to bring you over when you were a baby... when she could still visit.”

Varian was quiet for a long moment. For a moment, Arianna was worried she might have upset him. But then he pulled out the chair at his desk and sat down.

“So you know how she…”

“How she passed, yes.”

He was staring at the plans at the desk, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. Then, Arianna noticed something that caught her off guard. A tear, falling from the boy's cheek, landing on the paper, and smudging the writing there. She froze momentarily. The boy’s shoulders shook. He was crying.

She had seen him angry, desperate, and too excited for his own good. But never before had she seen him cry. It was almost odd. A contrast from his loud excitement, and overbearing emotions. He was quiet, keeping his head down.

It occurred to her only then that he hadn’t grown up with a mother figure. His mother had handled emotions much better than his father had. And when she had passed, it was clear to both her and Frederic, that Quirin was not prepared to raise Varian all on his known. They had tried to help when they could, but as Corona grew, they became busier and busier.

Aster wasn’t there now, and Quirin was still in Old Corona, supporting his son from afar until he had time to visit. Arianna kneeled next to him “Varian?”

He met her eyes. Tears streamed down his face, and his cheeks and nose were both flushed red. She frowned. This boy had been through so much. She knew perfectly what had happened with Cassandra. Sometimes it was hard to shake what she’d seen in him before. Anger. Uncompressed, pure anger. When she had been sitting in his lab in Old Corona. And she had been able to feel the desperation in the room. So thick it could be cut through with a knife. Or maybe a hug, and reassuring words. The promise that someone was there. Someone was listening. Someone cared. Because that was clearly what the boy had needed then. And it was obvious that was what he needed now.

He was so different from what she had seen in Old Corona. Then, he had stood tall, confident that he knew what he was doing. That he was right. And she had been scared. But now, he was shrinking on himself. Hugging himself with his arms. And she wondered how he had ever been any sort of villain. Any sort of threat.

Because here, in front of her, wasn’t an enemy. Wasn’t the boy who had nearly destroyed Corona in a desperate attempt to get answers. He was her friend’s son. A 15-year-old boy who missed his mother.

Slowly, Arianna wrapped her arms around Varian and pulled him close. She felt him tense and had a flicker of doubt. But just as soon as he tensed, his shoulders dropped and his arms wrapped around her as his crying started up again.

She kept her arms tightly around hi, a secure and steady pressure that he desperately needed. The kind of hug he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. A mother’s hug was so different than any other. Comforting in a unique way. Soothing quicker than anyone else could. And eventually, he stopped crying and sat still in her arms.

"could you... not tell anyone about this?" she should have figured he would be embarrassed of breaking down in front of the queen.

"of course. I promise"

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and feedback are always appreciated! I really hoped you all enjoyed this, it's my first time writing for this fandom


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